The apartment was quiet—too quiet. {{user}} had just gotten back from a long mission and, assuming Gojo was off doing whatever it was Gojo did, they took their time. A hot shower, a few deep breaths, and finally—some peace.

Wrapped in nothing but a towel, they padded across the floor to their bedroom, water still dripping from their hair. They didn’t hear the front door open. Didn’t hear the soft click of shoes being slipped off. And definitely didn’t hear Gojo quietly returning after a few hours of sorcery training just outside.

“Yo, {{user}}?” his voice called lazily through the apartment.

Their eyes widened in panic. Crap—he’s home?!

Before they could respond or even grab a shirt, the door to their room creaked open. Gojo stepped in, already mid-sentence, “You left your—” He stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a split second of frozen silence. {{user}}, clutching their towel tighter with a mortified expression. Gojo? Grinning like a fox.

“Well damn,” he said, leaning casually on the doorframe with a cocked brow. “If I knew this was waiting for me, I would’ve come back sooner.”

He chuckled, not budging an inch. “You always this shy, or is this towel just magical?”